


I'll Rule with a Velvet Tongue

by HenryMercury



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Choking, First Time, M/M, Oral Sex, Power Bottom Jim Moriarty, Rimming, Sex Toys, Topping from the Bottom, implied fisting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:28:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22014130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HenryMercury/pseuds/HenryMercury
Summary: Seb looked at the disturbingly shiny, rubbery, fingerless sockthingengulfing Jim’s hand and forearm. A fisting mitten, he’d called it.Not afraid of a mitten, are you?
Relationships: Sebastian Moran/Jim Moriarty
Comments: 3
Kudos: 29





	I'll Rule with a Velvet Tongue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NotTonightJosephine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotTonightJosephine/gifts).



> Hi all, just for something completely out of left field, here's my birthday present for NotTonightJosephine from a while ago. 
> 
> Yes, the fisting mitten is a real thing. No, I do not have or want one - but more power to you if you do, I guess!

“Oh, come on,” said Jim, in that impatient, slightly amused voice he reserved for idiots who wasted his time in entertaining ways. It was a voice that Sebastian Moran did not appreciate having directed at him. “It isn’t like I’m asking that much.”

Seb looked at the disturbingly shiny, rubbery, fingerless _sock thing_ engulfing Jim’s hand and forearm. A _fisting mitten,_ he’d called it. _Not afraid of a mitten, are you?_

It was just that, in Seb’s opinion, Jim _was_ asking a bit much. Kinky fisting accoutrements were the kind of thing people reserved for a little later in their sexual relationships, wasn’t it? Say, the _second_ or _third_ time they fucked?

Jim’s fist was petite, but it was still a _fist._ And, like the rest of him, there was danger in its apparent diminutiveness.

Legs spread invitingly—no, instructively—as he lounged back in the chair, Jim _fucking_ Moriarty was the bane of Sebastian’s existence.

“Why don’t we just start with your cock in my arse?” he suggested.

Jim rolled his eyes. “ _Bor_ ing,” he mocked, eyes alight with challenge now. “Do you want to have sex with _me_ , or do you want to have sex with someone who isn’t me? Because it’s one or the other.”

Except, Seb knew, neither of them really thought this was anything less than an inevitability.

Jim’s thighs were skinny but firm when Seb straddled them, and he didn’t pull his body weight—instead pinning Jim down beneath him. Jim looked up as if he were looking down. Seb took hold of his wrists (one warm, fine skin and the other clinging latex) and then brought his mouth down on Jim’s. Jim allowed it, biting just enough to hurt. To scare, but not scare him off. Restrained, but never tame.

Seb wanted to take him apart like the finest of weapons. Oil him up with careful, purposeful hands; bring him off with patience and perfect aim. Wanted to take Jim’s body to the peak of its performance.

He ground his clothed erection against Jim’s, trailing gentle teeth down the cords of his neck while Jim sat without protest.

“I’m going to suck you off, whether you like it or not,” Sebastian informed him, sliding back off Jim’s lap and going to his knees in front of him. He looked hard into the cool eyes regarding him. Jim made no further move.

So Seb went right ahead.

Jim’s cock was as hot and hard as his stare was cool. With an eye-wateringly deep swallow, Seb earned the privilege of a clenched hand in his hair, nails digging into his scalp in a way he might have thought was careless if it wasn’t _Jim_.

That, Sebastian was perfectly equipped to handle. Jim pushed against his gag reflex with a calculated cruelty that set light trails of saline in motion down the sides of Seb’s cheeks. He wondered if Jim would have him in mascara one day, just to see it run.

Probably.

Seb sucked until he was coughing around Jim’s cock, then pulled off with an undignified slurp. Jim looked pleased by the state of him, which pleased Seb more than anything. Orgasms received were good, but it was those won from a competitive partner that were the real reward.

Seb took another look at the fisting mitten. Now that he felt a little dirty, a little desperate, it didn’t seem quite as ridiculous.

Which was not to say that it wasn’t still fucking ridiculous.

Seb resumed his ministrations, tongue running lower this time, hands spreading over the pale cheeks of Jim’s arse and dragging him forwards until he was properly exposed. He gave the bollocks a little attention, but moved quickly down and commenced rimming him with abandon. That cued a quiet groan, and Seb couldn’t help the answering rumble he let out.

“Are you going to do that all night?” Jim snapped.

“Might do.”

“No you won’t. Put your fingers in. Now.”

Seb obliged—but took his sweet time locating the lube and pressing inside, digit by digit, knuckle by knuckle. Jim writhed, demanding more with increasingly creative threats attached.

“Give me another or I’ll cut your hand off and do it myself,” he said, pushing down on the three fingers already in him. “Unlike _some people_ , I can take it.”

Just for that, Seb thrust his pinkie in roughly. He watched the stretch of Jim’s rim, transfixed, until the harsh jab of a heel against his ribcage jolted him back into the moment.

“Take this,” said Jim, then slapped Seb on the cheek with something black, thin, and a bit sticky. Sebastian caught it instinctively. “And I can show you how it’s done.”

With some difficulty, he removed his hand from Jim’s arse and slid it into the fisting mitten.

Naively, he glanced up to check Jim’s face for approval, for concern, for any kind of second thought—as though this hadn’t been what he intended all along.


End file.
